


Jonathan Crane Gets Results

by bluestalking, feverbeats



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Nonbinary Character, OT3, Other, really bad psychiatry, slightly questionable relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/pseuds/bluestalking, https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: "Hm," Harvey says. "You are a doctor, aren't you? You're not a patient who's managed to escape?"Jonathan Crane has a long term pet project, Harvey Dent gets a new shrink, and Eddie Nashton gets involved. <3
Relationships: Harvey Dent/Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane/Harvey Dent/Edward Nygma
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Jonathan Crane Gets Results

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! We became sad about how awful Harvey is in the next villain OT3 fic we're going to post, so we took a little break and wrote this one, which is kind of like fluff but still contains things like questionable relationship dynamics, rough sex, poisoning people, references to child abuse, off-screen murder. You know. That kind of thing. This is also a different set of this OT3 from....all the other stories we have written that have this OT3 in them. Just LOTS of Jon/Ed/Harv universes. Anyway we had fun, thank you for reading!!

1.

Jonathan Crane has been working at Arkham Asylum for two years before anyone lets him get his hands on Harvey Dent. Harvey, for one thing, manages to keep himself respectably out of custody most of the time. He does nasty things. Everyone knows so. But he’s rich and well-connected, so only his most heinous behaviors can put him away; even those can’t put him away for long. They give him therapy and put him on new medication, which Jonathan suspects he does not take, and send him back into the world. To a press conference, sometimes. Jonathan watches those, because Harvey is fascinating. 

But as he is rich and well-connected, he also, usually, gets very particular treatment when he is forced through Arkham’s doors. Two years since his first day of employment, and one year since his interest was fully piqued, is how long it takes Jonathan to find a way around that. It’s a several step plan. Once Harvey’s usual doctor is dead, there is still the trouble of Jonathan putting himself in the path of Harvey’s next intake. He makes several plans, actually, and between them he finds himself successful, and seated in a chair opposite former DA and current notorious criminal Harvey Dent. Two-Face.

“First of all,” says Jonathan, crossing his legs and pushing up his glasses, “I’m so glad to meet you. Allow me to warmly welcome you to what I hope will be a space of safety and comfort, for you to explore your needs.”

"Oh no," Harvey says mildly. "I was hoping you'd just offer me electroshock." His voice is so pleasant, both gravelly and soothing. Jonathan can see why he did well as DA.

Jonathan smiles mildly. “New day. New doctor. I thought we’d try something new, as well.”

"I like new things," Harvey says thoughtfully, looking Jonathan up and down. "Are you new here? New and naive?"

“Oh, I haven’t been here as long as some people,” says Jonathan.

Harvey leans back in his chair, tipping it back on two legs. Totally at ease. "Okay, doc. Give me some therapy." 

“Unfortunately,” says Jonathan, “that’s not entirely how it works. As I’m sure you’re aware. You’ve been to Arkham--eighteen times? And you have an intimate amount of experience with other therapies and programs going back to childhood, I believe.” That is not something that people are supposed to know about Harvey. Jonathan was curious, however, and people just tend to give him what he asks for.

Harvey tenses. He very slowly lowers his chair back to the floor. "What was that?" he asks. He looks like a coiled spring.

“It seems as if your family considered the issues resolved by the time you were--eleven?” says Jonathan, checking his notes. “An unusual time of life for mental illness to magically disappear. Often, you know, puberty is a trigger--” He looks up.

Harvey's face, usually halfway pleasant to look at, is contorted with rage. He reaches across the table and grabs Jonathan's collar. With the other hand, he fishes his coin out of his pocket. Who has allowed him to have that?

Jonathan reacts like he would if a very large dog took his head in its jaws. Or, there are other examples of what it is like, but those aren’t pleasant to think about and Jonathan finds them distracting. He focuses on the dog, which is fascinating and alluring and shaking with anger.

“This isn’t information I would use against you,” he says. “But I do like to be thorough.”

Harvey throws Jonathan back down into his chair, so hard his teeth rattle. "Call it, doc," he says, and he flips the coin.

Jonathan tries to catch his breath, takes note of the rushing in his veins, says, “Scar side. I’d like to know you.”

Harvey doesn't look at the coin. He doesn't even catch it. It strikes the table and goes flying, spinning to a stop somewhere  
over by the door. Harvey grabs Jonathan's collar again and hauls him out of his chair, so roughly his feet leave the ground.

Jonathan could say something. But he’s been waiting quite a long time. What if this is the only time he sees Harvey Dent? (It won’t be.) What a waste, if all the talking was done by him. He meets Harvey’s eyes and waits, caught on the end of Harvey’s arm like a fish.

Harvey tilts his head. "I have seen you around," he says. "You're the fear guy. The one the orderlies talk shit about. How come you aren't scared of me?"

“No one said I’m not,” says Jonathan. “Fear is healthy. You’re prone to outbursts. Or, directed rage disguised as outbursts. I’m not sure which, yet.” 

Harvey punches him in the face.

It’s not as hard a punch as Jonathan expects. He still puts a hand over his mouth and jaw and says, “Did they do anything for you? The old doctors?”

Harvey lets go and gives him a perturbed look. "No," he says. "And what do you expect to do for me? I didn't come here for a punching bag. I can get that anywhere."

Jonathan sits down. “I thought you might like to talk.”

"Hm," Harvey says. He goes and retrieves his coin from where it fell. "Okay. Let's talk. But I think I've heard that you have to want to get better for therapy to work."

“Do you think you have something to get better from?” Jonathan asks.

"No," Harvey says promptly. "The coin works for me. The crime works for me. I'm pretty happy, most of the time."

“In that case,” says Jonathan, “let’s talk about that.”

"Being happy?" Harvey frowns. "Doctor Cates wasn't like this. Not that I'm complaining."

“Well, Harvey,” says Jonathan, “most of the staff at this facility are very bad at their jobs.”

"No shit," Harvey says. "I could have told you that." He's getting comfortable in his seat again, clearly relaxing. He rolls the coin over his knuckles.

“Mm,” says Jonathan. “So let’s assume that competence is what upsets the orderlies so much, and go from there.”

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "I like you," he says. "Are you just standing in, or do I get to keep you?"

Jonathan feels a rush of pleasure, the excitement of getting exactly what he wants. He tries not to let it show on his face. 

“Doctor Cates has moved on,” he says. “Barring unfortunate circumstances, I am your psychiatrist while you are here.”

"Good," Harvey says. "Then let's talk about how happy I am to commit crimes. Except for the part where I get caught."

Jonathan leans forward, palm to chin. “Let’s pause there. What makes you get caught?”

Harvey smiles, all teeth. "I like flashy stuff. Explosions. Those draw a crowd, generally. And while I can shoot cops all day long, I've had less luck with Batman."

“He is difficult, isn’t he?” Jonathan says. “How do you feel about Batman, Harvey?”

"He makes me fucking furious," Harvey says. "He hasn't got the moral high ground he thinks he does, and it pisses me off."

“I imagine it would be hard to be a vigilante who didn’t have an inflated sense of his own righteousness,” says Jonathan. “Tell me more about the anger.”

Harvey shrugs. "Yeah, okay. It's fuel. But I know it makes me sloppy. So maybe in that sense it's a liability. I lose control sometimes, and nobody enjoys doing that."

Jonathan nods. “Anger feels like control,” he suggests. “Until it’s over.”

"Sometimes even then," Harvey says. He's watching Jonathan in a very particular way. "It depends how much power you have."

“Or, I suppose, how long you need to retain it,” says Jonathan thoughtfully.

"How much power do you think you have right now?" Harvey asks.

“I don’t think it matters,” says Jonathan.

"You've been thinking about this," Harvey says. "And you want to be in here with me. Either you're crazy or you're braver than most doctors here."

“I like my work,” says Jonathan.

"You like your work, or you like me?" Harvey smirks and gets up again. "Maybe you're always this thorough." 

Jonathan smiles, delighted. “I might have put in a little more legwork for you.”

"So what is it about me?" Harvey asks. He steps around behind Jonathan's chair, out of his line of vision.

Jonathan, unseen, shuts his eyes and inhales Harvey’s faint smell. No cologne in here. Just the man. 

“Fear is my specialty,” Jonathan says. “I’ve never been able to tell from a distance if you’re relevant.”

"You're very hands-on in your research, then," Harvey says, and then suddenly he's much closer, yanking Jonathan's head back by the hair and grabbing his throat with the other hand.

Calling the guards in Arkham is useless—to Jonathan, anyway, since they usually realize it’s him and just don’t come. Anyway—Jonathan doesn’t want to call. He shivers in place, hoping Harvey can feel it when he swallows with fear and anticipation.

"I'm gonna break your neck," Harvey says, but he doesn't move as if that's what he wants. He just holds Jonathan in place.

“Why?” says Jonathan.

There's a ringing silence. Then Harvey laughs. "Yeah," he says, "You're right. I'm not." He pulls Jonathan backwards out of the chair, hands at his throat and in his hair. He throws Jonathan down on the floor at his feet.

Jonathan says, “That’s not talking, Harvey.” His voice grates a little. He clears his throat.

"I can talk while I fuck you up," Harvey says. He nudges Jonathan with his toe.

Jonathan remains on the floor. He says, “Tell me: what drives the violence?”

"Come on," Harvey says, "Don't tell me you haven't heard the story. Harvey Dent, idealistic young DA, wanting to clean up Gotham. Well, turns out you can't beat the mobsters by playing that game. You have to play their game." He crouches down next to Jonathan. "And honestly? It feels good."

“I’ve heard that story,” says Jonathan. “But I’m not mobsters. Or cops. I just want to talk. So where does it come from? What does it do?”

"You're the shrink," Harvey says. "You tell me. Let's give you some more data to work with." He slaps Jonathan across the face--open hand, but hard this time.

Jonathan catches himself on his hands and looks up at Harvey, breathing hard. “Shrinks don’t tell,” he says. Fear and excitement crackle through his veins. “We listen.”

"I talk with my hands," Harvey says. He strikes fast, tackling Jonathan down against the ground and pinning him flat with the weight of his body.

It shouldn’t feel reassuring, and it doesn’t. Jonathan feels his mind peel off in several directions at once. It would, he thinks, be so easy to be anyone but this, in this moment. The thought makes him fight harder, but a giggle escapes him anyway.

Harley gives a low, surprised chuckle. "You're a freak," he says. "That's nice. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?" It doesn't matter what Jonathan thinks, at the moment.

He says, “I don’t know. I can imagine a lot.” In fact he can, dozens of options, almost all brutal and interesting and probably uncomfortable.

Harvey pulls back a little, just enough to roughly yank Jonathan's blazer halfway down his arms. He ties it in a crude knot, so Jonathan's arms are pinned behind him almost painfully.

Jonathan almost reacts. It flashes through him like fire, and his throat tenses into a snarl that he reins in by force. The floor in front of his face is growing hazy. He says, “In your own mind, are you a rational person?”

"Always," Harvey says. He puts his hand on the back of Jonathan's head and presses his face into the ground. His weight is on Jonathan again, and Jonathan can feel him rock into the curve of Jonathan's ass a little.

Jonathan is disappointed. “We could have talked,” he hums. “And all you want is sex?”

"That's not _all_ I want," Harvey snaps. "But don't tell me it didn't cross your mind."

Jonathan squeezes his eyes shut. “Many things cross my mind,” he says. “Do you want to know about them?”

"Yes," Harvey says. "Yes, I do."

“Then let me up,” says Jonathan. “I’ll tell you. And then if you want to kiss me, you can.”

To his surprise--but only mild surprise--Harvey does let him up.

"Okay," Harvey says. "You're the boss, doc."

Jonathan writhes his way out of his coat, and finds himself tattered at the edges. He gets up and sits in his chair. He says, “Psychology doesn’t teach us to ignore violence and fear.”

"Tell that to your coworkers," Harvey says. "All they want is to beat it out of us."

“They lack tools,” says Jonathan. “I have tools.”

"What kind of tools?" Harvey asks.

“I know, it sounds vague and wishy-washy,” Jonathan says. “Shrink stuff. But we are animals, driven by chemicals, and chemicals make wonderful shortcuts. They get you to the meat of a thing.”

"You're not putting me on meds," Harvey says mildly.

“Oh!” says Jonathan. He laughs. “It’s not approved.”

"Experimental meds?" Harvey's lip curls. "Even less interested."

“I won’t even ask,” says Jonathan. “But you asked me what I thought about. And when you cut people with fear, Harvey, it gives you so many things to think about that your mind rattles and howls and never stops again.”

"Hm," Harvey says. "You are a doctor, aren't you? You're not a patient who's managed to escape?"

Jonathan points at the diplomas on his gray wall. “They’re real,” he says. “What makes you say something like that?”

"Because you sound unhinged." Harvey sounds intrigued. "But I guess I could have told you that from your reaction to being thrown around, too."

“Poetic,” says Jonathan. “I’m poetic. If I cut you and you didn’t have any fear inside, what would I do? But I don’t think that would happen.”

"Yeah?" Harvey says. "You think I'm scared? I'm not scared of _you_ , that's for sure. I've never been scared of any doctor in here."

“No,” Jonathan says. He himself has been afraid here. It’s been worth his while to stay anyway. “You’re a privileged guest. If you aren’t ready to grapple with your own fear, Harvey, what would you think about observing someone else’s?”

"Okay," Harvey says, "now I'm interested."

“Work best done at night,” says Jonathan. “It’s more conducive to certain emotional experiences. I’ll come get you. I have a masterkey. All of the psychiatrists do, of course.”

"Of course," Harvey says. He laughs. "Whoever you are, you've really got the system working for you, doc. Thanks for letting me in on it."

“As I said,” Jonathan says, “I’ve been curious about you for a long time. I truly think we could have a beneficial relationship, if you open yourself to it.”

"We'll see what I open myself to," Harvey says.

Jonathan nods, and makes a note. “Very good,” he says. “And Harvey, really, I feel that you’ve done well for your first session.”

"Condescend to me again and you'll regret it," Harvey says. "You're not that charming." He stands up. "Let's go, back to my cell."

Jonathan looks up. He isn’t condescending, but that’s neither here nor there. “Nothing more?” he says.

"I guess it depends what you want," Harvey says, a little sarcastic. "You were standoffish earlier."

“Communication is important,” says Jonathan. 

"Like I said, I talk with my hands." Harvey leans down, hands flat on the table, very close to Jonathan.

“That’s an invitation,” Jonathan clarifies. He doesn’t bat an eye, but inside he is roiling. He’s waited a year. Harvey has no idea.

Harvey grabs Jonathan's collar yet again. For a blinding second, Jonathan thinks he's going to be hit, but then Harvey kisses him. The experience isn't dissimilar.

He kisses back, now hungry, now less careful. His nails bite Harvey’s neck. Success, and he is going to absorb every second. This time is going to be the first time, but he is never going to stop.

Harvey is still grabby, hauling Jonathan close by his arms, biting his bottom lip. Jonathan can feel Harvey's need for control in every movement.

That’s all right. Jonathan has not lost control yet, not in all of his planning and not once in this meeting. Harvey is exactly what he imagined, and even better, and when Jonathan tests him it is going to be so illuminating. He shifts so that there is space for Harvey’s body between his legs, tilts his head up so Harvey can get at him, shivers and sees stars. Do more. Do more.

Harvey doesn't just repeat himself. He grabs Jonathan's hair again, but just for a second, snapping his head back and slapping him hard across the face, twice. Jonathan notices that Harvey does things in twos, but not always. Harvey slides his hand down Jonathan's chest, untucking his shirt while kissing him again.

Jonathan picks loose his buttons, top to bottom, as Harvey starts from the bottom up. Their hands crash into each other in the middle. 

Harvey makes a noise low in his throat. "Fuck," he says. "Not complaining about sex now, are you?"

“I explained, Harvey,” Jonathan says, his voice rougher than before. “It’s a mutual decision.” He imagines Harvey screaming, and imagines clawing his face, both sides, so hard it bleeds. It makes his body sing with need.

"You've got balls," Harvey says. He leans in and kisses Jonathan again, then kicks his legs further apart. "How about we mutually decide that I'm bending you over your table and fucking you in the ass?"

“Next time,” says Jonathan. “Leave yourself something to work towards, Harvey. Trust in the process.”

"You can't stop me," Harvey says, but he doesn't make another move. Fascinating.

“No,” says Jonathan. He knows that it sounds like agreement, and he lets it sound like agreement. It could and does mean several things.

Harvey presses his hand, the scarred one, to Jonathan's chest. It's rough. He's rough. "You just tell me when to stop," he says. It sounds mocking. Is it? Thus far Harvey has been very responsive to direction.

Jonathan, rather than answering, leans his head back and closes his eyes. It looks relaxed, probably, but very rarely has his every cell been alert like this. Only when he does his real work.

Harvey kisses him and touches him, but no more hitting. He twists one of Jonathan's nipples roughly at a point. Jonathan yelps and jumps in place, then plasters his hands to the arms of the chair and says unclearly, “As long as you don’t kill me, Harvey, or fuck me in the ass, anything is fine.” It’s mostly true and he wants ravenously to know how far Harvey will try to take his permission.

"Anything?" Harvey laughs. "You're lucky I'm not someone worse. You're lucky I'm not the Joker." He undoes Jonathan's belt roughly, looks at it speculatively for a moment, then discards it.

“I didn’t want the Joker,” Jonathan says dismissively.

"That's sweet," Harvey says. He sounds surprised. "Okay, let's make sure we don't get any company in here." He grabs Jonathan's jaw, shoves his thumb in his mouth, and holds it shut. Then he shoves his other hand into Jonathan's pants.

The first rough brush of Harvey’s hand against Jonathan’s cock makes Jonathan choke back a scream. Harvey pulls it free of his pants, and Jonathan releases the chair’s arms long enough to push his pants a little further down. He _wants_ to be naked and sprawled and red with belt marks, but even this is so good he can barely see straight.

Harvey jerks Jonathan off roughly and efficiently. Just when Jonathan thinks he can't stand it anymore, Harvey stops. He laughs shortly and goes to retrieve the belt. He wraps it around Jonathan's throat, pulling it tight behind his head with a fist. "Okay," he says, and he touches him again.

Jonathan’s vision sparks into darkness and stars, and he screams as he comes. He’s victorious, and furious, he has Harvey on a string but he wanted more _now_ , but it’s too late and he’s shaking and choking and staring up at Harvey in a daze.

Harvey whips the belt away and makes a satisfied noise. "You look better when you're a mess," he says. "Or at least when you can tell."

Jonathan says hoarsely, “Are you satisfied? If I call the guards now will you jerk off in your cell?”

"Yes," Harvey says. "Do that. I don't let doctors here touch me, and you're not as harmless as I want you to be."

Jonathan smooths back his hair and stands up to fix his pants. He might be red-cheeked, marks on his throat, but he doesn’t care about that. “I’m sure you don’t think that I’ll harm you,” he says, and hits the buzzer to call the guards.

"No," Harvey says, dismissive. "Nothing like that. But you're...odd. And I'm alive because I'm careful."

“I look forward to working together further,” Jonathan says. “I’m sure that if you choose to, we can make amazing progress here.” The door opens and four guards in white come through.

Harvey shakes his head and steps between them. "Weird," he says. "Well, see you around, doc."

When Harvey is gone and the door is shut, Jonathan sits behind his desk and rolls Harvey’s voice around in his head like a ball, pliant and appealing in his mental grip. Tonight he’ll be able to see more of him. Tonight he’ll show him more.

2.

Harvey is restless when he's returned to his cell. He doesn't jerk off, but he wants to. He keeps turning the situation over and over in his head, trying to decide how worried to be. Not very, he decides. Crane is weird, but Harvey could take him, probably even drugged. But Crane did say some things that were a little off, and anyone who lets people do what he let Harvey do is a little concerning. Maybe he's just nuts.

Harvey lies back on his bunk and thinks back on their "session." Maybe he'll jerk off after all. But you can't let your guard down in Arkham. And Harvey came out of it with nothing lost so far, so why start making himself vulnerable now?

Night falls and the first evening rounds go by, until it’s late enough that almost everyone has gone quiet. Harvey could be disappointed. Crane isn’t coming.

Except he does. It’s the faint cheep of the lock that tells him, and then the good doctor standing in the shadows, face half cast in moonlight.

Harvey swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Couldn't stay away, huh?" Something in his animal brain tells him to worry, but he doesn't waste his time worrying in Arkham, and he's hungry.

“You have to be cuffed to leave your cell,” says Crane. “Do you think you can be comfortable with that?” He isn’t as relaxed as he was in his office. Or, is his throat still hoarse from Harvey choking him?

"Where are we going?" Harvey asks, not bothering to keep his voice down. "If you want to pick up where we left off, we can do that here." See how gutsy Crane is.

“Harvey,” says Crane patiently, “are you able to focus? I’m going to share something with you.”

Something about this doctor is off, like he's not focused himself. Harvey shrugs and stands up. "What kind of something?"

“My work,” says Crane. “I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Harvey has no idea what the hell that means, but at this point he's curious enough to find out. Besides, Crane's scrawny, cuffs or no. He offers his wrists.

Crane is a light touch, and when he turns away down the hall, he does so with one hand still on Harvey’s wrist.

Harvey shivers, doesn't analyze the emotion, and moves on after him.

They go to a part of the hospital Harvey has never visited before. Back offices, maybe, but then they pass the kitchen, and then they go _down._

Harvey feels that twige of maybe-worry again, but he keeps moving. Crane is clearly stuck on him. He's not a threat.

"I feel like I should text a friend," Harvey says.

“No phones on the unit,” Crane says absently. “Just the visiting room, with supervision. Right down here.” He leads Harvey to a locked room. Inside there is light, and a panel of reinforced glass, with a door in it. On the other side of the glass is a man sitting in a completely normal chair. The man looks familiar.

"Wait a minute," Harvey says. "Is this some kind of...group therapy?" With two doctors and one of him? Locked in? Harvey is being very stupid. He takes a step back.

“Id like you to meet him,” says Crane. “Talk to him. I really would love to hear your conclusions about my work based on your own observations.”

"What is this?" Harvey demands. He hears his own voice rise a little, and he doesn't like it.

“This gentleman has been my patient for eight months,” says Crane. “I’d like you to speak to him. It will be much simpler than my explaining everything. Harvey, I promised I would share my thoughts with you; that’s all I’m doing.”

"Fine, all right," Harvey says shortly, because he'd rather not lose face in front of Crane. He places the other man--it's someone who's worked for Harvey, but also for a number of other names in the city. Not someone Harvey would have pegged as going to Arkham, but hell, they send Harvey here. So who knows.

“Wonderful,” says Crane. “Now, bear in mind that this man has a long way to go. He may alarm you.”

"I can handle it," Harvey says, sneering at Crane. It makes him feel better.

Crane smiles and opens the door to the partitioned off section of the room. The man looks up in alarm. He looks as though he doesn’t sleep. Crane extends an arm to usher Harvey inside. “The controls are in the room,” he explains. “And we begin with talk.”

Harvey relaxes a little. Okay. Some classic Arkham torture, probably. He's seen worse. "I don't know why they put you in the basement," he says. "They do this shit aboveground, too."

“Therapy?” says Crane quizzically as Harvey steps by. Harvey half turns to answer caustically, and Crane slams the door in his face. Harvey hears it lock.

Even cuffed, Harvey reminds himself, he can take Crane. And maybe Crane is being sincere, and he just wants to show off his sadistic side to impress Harvey.

The man in the chair, whose name Harvey can’t remember, says shrilly, “Wait, you’ve got him now! You don’t need me!” 

Idiot. Anyone in Arkham should know by now that nobody really has Harvey.

"Now what?" he asks.

The man in the chair, who was silent and still before, starts to loudly cry. Crane has disappeared. He comes back a moment later, while Harvey is trying to work out what is going on. A burnt, sour smell catches on Harvey’s tongue.

Crane says, “I know, you said nothing experimental. But. It really is best to experience the therapy firsthand.”

Harvey feels like he's in a horror movie, realizing far too late that there's no way out. He clenches his fists. "Whatever it is, turn it the hell off." He's proud of how calm he sounds. All Arkham doctors are crazy.

Crane shakes his head. The smell in the air sharpens and worsens, and the man in the chair starts to scream.

"What are you doing?" Harvey snaps, feeling a thrill of fear. "What is this?"

Crane watches them, silent. And then, it happens. The fear deepens and spreads, until it's not just Harvey's worry about being locked up down here, it's connected to all the things he's ever been afraid of. The jolt of adrenaline spikes, and suddenly he's ten again, with his dad drunk and yelling outside his bedroom door. He falls to his knees, the feeling hitting him like a sledgehammer.

The other man’s screams cut jaggedly through Harvey’s--fear? Visions? He doesn’t know what to call this. The noise shakes him further loose from his sense of reality. 

Harvey drags himself on hands and knees in the direction he thinks the door is. The floor keeps shifting. One minute it's the dusty floor of his childhood bedroom, the next he's in the courtroom, with acid pouring down his face. He makes a low, animal noise. He can't remember where he's supposed to be.

He can hear his father shouting at him. Something smashes. There's gunfire, but who would let someone into the courtroom with a gun? Harvey presses himself up against a wall, dizzy and shaking.

“Harvey!” someone calls, past the screams. “Harvey, is that a little clearer? Can you see it now?”

Who is talking to him? Harvey tries to curl himself into a ball so getting hit won't hurt so much. He covers his face and mumbles something, but his father won't listen.

“Harvey,” says the same clear voice. “Harvey, look up.” 

Harvey does, but he has to do it through a haze. It's the way his vision looked when he got the acid thrown in his face, but it's both eyes. "What--" He tries to blink the courtroom away.

Doctor Crane looks down at him through the glass wall. He’s smiling.

“I knew I had to get you in here,” he says. “Look at you. This is exactly what we needed.”

"What--What is this?" Harvey can't get his breathing under control. "What did you do to me?"

“Think of it as an emotional aid,” says Crane, unphased. “All the things you show through anger--they’re difficult to make any room for, aren’t they? Except through violence. But in here, you can find them. Isn’t it wonderful?”

"Let me out," Harvey says, his heart beating in his ears. He feels like he's underwater. He can't think his way through everything Crane is saying, but he knows he needs to leave.

“I understand,” says Crane. “But what would you do if I let you out, Harvey?”

"Nothing," Harvey hears himself say. Then, as he shuts his eyes and blocks out some of the phantoms, "Break your fucking neck."

“I don’t think we can really engage with one another when you’re in such an acute, vulnerable place,” says Crane. “Now, I’m going to take some notes. You two can share anything you experience. The effects will fully wear off in an hour or so, and someone will come by to get you.”

Harvey snarls and tries to get to his feet, but he's locked in. It's Arkham and he's locked in. He's in a straightjacket and he can't move and someone is coming for him. He knows, with a part of himself, that this isn't true, but he can't seem to remember it. The fear surges in him again, and then he can't remember anything except the terror of whatever awful thing is going to happen.

3\. 

From Harvey’s expression as they lead him to the front desk, Eddie doesn’t think anyone told him that he was getting out this morning, let alone that Eddie would be here to pick him up. Arkham in a nutshell, with the footnote that if they’d sized up Eddie and decided to hang onto them both, it wouldn’t have been a surprise. 

Harvey looks a lot more rumpled than usual. His hair is a mess. As soon as they check out, he says, "I'm not doing that again." He keeps looking back over his shoulder, which isn't like him.

“Hey, Harv,” says Eddie. “You all right? Let’s get you to your place. Okay, I borrowed your car, we’re right out here. Come on, Harvey.” Eddie leads the way, and honest to god it seems like Harvey needs that. It’s weird. 

Harvey is completely dead silent in the car. He doesn't even respond to Eddie. He just stares out the window, looking haunted. When they finally get to his place, he collapses onto the couch.

By this point, Eddie, who has probably more therapy in their little finger than the entirety of the asylum they just pulled Harvey out of, and therefore who does _not_ stress about things the way they did as a kid, says, “Harvey, what did they do?”

"It's not _them_ ," Harvey snaps. "Not the regular doctors, anyway. He fucking poisoned me."

“What?” says Eddie, startled uncomfortable. “Who poisoned you how?”

"My new doctor," Harvey says, an edge of mocking coming into his voice. "He's a lunatic."

Eddie sifts through everything they know about Arkham, lately, and come up dry. “Name?” they say. “Who? They all are, aren’t they?”

Harvey shakes his head vigorously and winces. "Crane," he says. "And I don't mean a lunatic like he looks at you funny or gives you too much electroshock. He _poisoned_ me. Something that made me hallucinate."

“Did you get him back for it at least?” Eddie asks.

"No," Harvey says. He sounds irritated. "I was locked up in the fucking basement, Eddie, so no."

Eddie evaluates, and then instead of doing anything stupid, they go get Harvey a glass of bubbly water with ice. 

“Hydrate?” they suggest, holding it out. They really want the whole timeline, and to understand what Harvey is talking about, but things can be dicey with him. This doesn’t seem like his finest moment.

Harvey drinks the whole glass of water before trying to talk again. Then he says, "Okay. Thanks. So--he's my new therapist there. And he pulled me for a session. I thought he was a little weird, a little intense, but okay. Interesting, anyway. Then one thing led to another, and we ended up fucking around."

Eddie says, “Well there’s your mistake. Anyone would get clingy and jealous once they had you one time.” It’s a little mean to Harvey and a little mean to themself, and they shouldn’t say it, but oh well.

"Clingy and jealous," Harvey repeats. "Clingy and jealous is stealing my keys and making copies of them." He gives Eddie a pointed look. "I think he was after this the whole time. Locking me up and experimenting on me."

“That’s why they’re all there,” Eddie says. “Did you forget or something?”

"I'm telling you, this is different!" Harvey snarls. "He got me up in the middle of the night, brought me to the basement, and made me hallucinate! Kept talking about how he wanted me to experience the therapy. It was _weird_. And he let me touch him! So what the hell?"

“Okay,” allows Eddie. “Sounds crazy.”

"Not just crazy," Harvey says. "Dangerous. To me specifically." Eddie has hardly ever heard Harvey admit something like that.

“What makes you think you, specifically?” Eddie asks, frowning. Maybe it’s time for them to start being clingy and jealous again. Or freaked out? It’s usually worth getting freaked out, if Harvey is.

"Just some of the things he said," Harvey says. "He was--I can't describe it. Focused. I thought he might be one of those weirdos who just gets impressed. But he'd been trying to get me alone, I think."

“That sounds not great,” says Eddie. It sounds very bad, actually, if he pulled one over on Harvey successfully. “You fucked this guy?”

"I jerked him off," Harvey says. "Before the poisoning," he adds defensively.

“Okay,” says Eddie slowly, “and whose idea was that?”

"Mine," Harvey says. Then, "I don't know. He was being intense. I threw him around. I felt like he wanted me, and I was gonna fuck him, but…" He waves his empty glass. "He didn't want to."

“You should never, ever fuck an Arkham doctor,” Eddie says. “Christ, Harv. I hope he doesn’t get you arrested again.”

"I don't think he has that much power. Correction, I have no idea how much power he has. I need a real drink."

Eddie is worried, but kind of excited? They like puzzles _so_ much.

“Is he hot?” they ask, following Harvey to the bar. 

Harvey gives Eddie such a look. "Obviously," he says. "I wouldn't have touched him otherwise. He has... presence."

“What’s his name?” 

"Crane," Harvey says. "Like Ichabod."

Eddie laughs. “Spooky,” they say. “I’ll mix you something. Unless you think I’m going to poison you too?” They’re so busy cracking jokes that for a second their brain doesn’t catch up. “Wait, Jonathan Crane?”

"Yeah," Harvey says shortly. "I think so. Why?"

“He was in my grade,” says Eddie emphatically. “We went to school together for five years.”

"Really," Harvey says. He sounds even more annoyed. "Was he a psychopath then, too?" He pours himself gin, neat.

“He was smart,” says Eddie. Most people at their school were rich. Not a lot were as smart as Eddie. “It really pissed me off. We weren’t friends.”

"I can't imagine he has a lot of friends," Harvey says. He downs the drink. "All right. I'm starting to feel more like myself."

“He wasn’t hot,” Eddie adds.

"Not hot, exactly," Harvey says. "Attractive. Striking."

“You. Psychologically. On the head,” says Eddie. 

"Shut up," Harvey says. "I didn't know." He pours himself another drink.

“Did the old one have a sign on his door that said evil doctor, or what?” Eddie asks. “How’d he get you away from the old one, anyway?”

"Probably dead in a ditch," Harvey says grumpily. Harvey doesn't have a curious mind. That doesn’t mean he’s wrong, of course.

“Remind me his name and I’ll find out for you,” Eddie says. “Better to know exactly what you’re getting into, isn’t it?”

"Cates," Harvey says. Then he focuses on Eddie, possibly for the first time since leaving Arkham. "Going to be my little snoop, is that it? You are always good at getting information."

“I’m curious,” says Eddie. “And I can tell _you_ don’t want to get any closer. Right?” Sometimes, if you make assumptions about what Harvey thinks or feels, he tells you a lot more than he otherwise would.

"I'm not _scared_ ," Harvey snaps. Then he stops. "I was, though. I wasn't just hallucinating, I was scared. It's like he did something to my body, too. And I want to know what."

“Mm,” Eddie says. They are trying to remember more about Jonathan Crane, eighth through twelfth grader. If this was a movie, they’d cut right now to flipping through old yearbooks. They recoil from cliche, as a rule, and probably it doesn’t matter what face teenager Jonathan Crane decided to make on picture day. So scrap that. Eddie mostly remembers that he was kind of weird, and kind of mean, and kind of a nerd, and somehow got away with it a lot more of all of that than Eddie ever did. 

Asshole. 

"Then I want to go back there and smash his smug face in," Harvey says. "And not sexually this time!" Harvey angry can be anywhere from terrifying to funny, and right now he's so petulant.

“He said it was therapy?” Eddie asks. “Like did he think he was...helping...you?”

"I don't know," Harvey says. "He said that. Like he was helping me, but also like he was showing off how great his work is. I thought maybe he was just being--you know, creepy. But now I think he really believes it. He's not sadistic; he's unhinged."

“God, I love high school,” says Eddie. “I _love_ Arkham. Hey, you know what, maybe I should get arrested and get a closer look.”

"See, this was my mistake." Harvey shakes a finger at them. "He's not a game. And when you're in there, you won't be in control." Harvey admitting he's not in control is sobering. But not enough to stop Eddie.

“Right, but it ended, didn’t it?” Eddie says cheerfully. Yeah, it ended. They’re into the idea now.

"Yeah, well, beatings end, too," Harvey says. "You don't enjoy beatings. But be my guest, see if you can find out more. Maybe you won't be as stupid as I was."

“I’m not going to have sex with him, for a start,” says Eddie. “Gross, Harv. Big mistake.”

"It wasn't gross," Harvey says moodily. "He's an even bigger slut than you. He let me choke him with his belt. Can you see why I didn't feel threatened?"

“Slut’s a strong word,” says Eddie absently--to keep Harvey humble, although actually they like it. They’re imagining Harvey’s escapade a little too clearly, that’s all. Jonathan _Crane_? The lack of taste. They almost feel like Harvey deserved what he got. “Anyway, if he didn’t want to fuck when we were eighteen, and he’s into fancy bruisers like you now, do you really think he’d be interested in me?”

"I don't know what he's interested in," Harvey says. "Maybe he was just toying with me. Christ!"

Eddie won’t say this out loud because they’re smart, but the thought of someone getting that fully around Harvey’s defenses would be kind of hot if it wasn’t Jon Crane.

“I definitely need to go to Arkham,” they say.

"You're a fucking idiot," Harvey says. "Now, today?"

“No,” says Eddie, genuinely wounded. They hate being called stupid. “Recon first. library time. They got new internet computers last month.”

"I can't believe how much of your time you waste on that kind of thing," Harvey says. Eddie recalls that Harvey has had two drinks, meaning it's time for him to get mean.

“Some people like crosswords,” says Eddie. “I like…more interesting crosswords. Don’t forget to hydrate, Harvey. I’m going out.”

"Thanks, Mom," Harvey says, but not entirely nastily.

Eddie laughs, and goes to solve a mystery.

4.

It takes Eddie almost three weeks to land back in Arkham, partly because they're doing research and partly because they're on a streak of not getting caught, and it's hard to break that. The cops are so stupid, and Eddie is so good, that they end up waiting until they actually slip up.

When they get there, they ask the woman doing their intake if they can have Doctor Crane assigned. She looks at Eddie, incredulous.

"You want Doctor Crane?" she asks.

"So much," Eddie says pleasantly.

Whether because they were friendly or because the woman thinks it'll completely fucking screw them, she agrees.

So. Three weeks to get in. Fifteen hours to get seen. That could be for several reasons, and Eddie fiddles with all of them. 

When the orderlies finally come to get Eddie and take them to see their doctor, Eddie is bored out of their mind. They consider slipping their cuffs, just because they can. They slip cuffs and Harvey just bashes people with them. Complementary skill sets.

The orderlies leave them alone in one of the treatment rooms to contemplate. If it's a different doctor, Eddie will suck it up and play the game as usual. If it's Crane...well, he'd just better not have turned out hot. The internet is inconclusive on that.

But there’s the placard on the office door, and there is Jonathan Crane’s fucking name. Go figure. The orderlies knock and in a few seconds, the door opens, and a person Eddie definitely knows looks out at him with a mild smile and says, “Edward, come in.”

"Eddie," Eddie says, more as a reflex than anything. Does Crane remember him? Would that be better or worse? They come in and make themself comfortable (they've lost the cuffs, also a reflex).

“Please go,” Jonathan says to the orderlies, and shuts them out. The door slams. Jonathan looks benign.

Eddie places their hands on the table so it's obvious the cuffs are long gone. "Hi." They smile. "Jon."

“This will be a short visit,” says Jonathan. “Mostly a formality.”

"You don't remember me," Eddie says. "And that's offensive. But I'll forgive you." They're looking for clues everywhere, but he's unreadable.

“You can tell me about yourself if you’d like,” says Jonathan briskly.

"I'm sure it's all in my file," Eddie says. Jonathan doesn't _seem_ like a creepy stalker. He seems like the same weird nerd he was in school. "Although I don't always trust that what they put in there is accurate."

“Why don’t you sit down,” says Jonathan.

"Sure," Eddie says. "You know, I remember when you were fourteen and your glasses weren't nearly as cool." Maybe they can make him uncomfortable?

Jonathan sits. He skewers Eddie with a bland look (which—is that possible? To do?) and says, “If you’d like to be reassigned for the duration of your stay that’s fine, but for today you’ll need to meet with me. We can keep things simple, if that makes you more comfortable.”

"I don't do simple," Eddie says.

“No,” says Jonathan. “You look at all the possible options, remove the healthiest, most reasonable ones, and then tie the rest in a knot and call yourself clever. Which is why you keep ending up here.”

Eddie bristles. "Okay, no," they say. "I don't actually let doctors make that many mistakes when describing me. Let's start again." They don't expect respect, but they're also not going to let _Jon Crane_ talk down to them.

“You can go into details with your new psychiatrist as soon as you’re reassigned,” says Jonathan. “Any plans to kill yourself?”

"No," Eddie says, just because sometimes they lock you up in a worse room then. They once thought it would be interesting to see what happens if they said yes, and it wasn't worth it. They decide to take a different route. "Hey, I hear you've met my boyfriend." That isn't quite what Harvey is, but why not be aggressive?

“That’s not an appropriate topic. Any thoughts of hurting, raping, or killing anyone?” Jonathan’s posture is still loose, but his eyes glitter.

Eddie is annoyed. This _nerd_ tortured their boyfriend. Kind of. Most of those words are close enough. "A little," they say. "Right at this moment. You can probably figure it out by process of elimination."

“I’ll make a note,” Jonathan says without concern. “Drug use?” Almost all questions Eddie has already been asked. This is not going the way it did for Harvey. 

"Not really," Eddie says. "Are you going to poison me?" It's ticking them off that he's playing normal. Or normal enough. He's got a funny look in his eye. The kind of thing Harvey could ignore.

“Medication and therapy and a little self-respect would go a long way,” says Jonathan. “None of the disorders you are diagnosed with are untreatable. If you treat every option like poison, however, it’s no wonder you are stagnating. Falling into crime.”

"I didn't fall," Eddie says. They have their pride. "I stepped with confidence. Crime pays. Better than psychiatry, probably." The remark about self-respect rankles, even as they move past it.

“Why did you request me, Eddie?” says Jonathan, a little more sharply.

"As I said, you've met my boyfriend," Eddie says. "I wanted to see how his description of you could possibly match up with the pathetic little loser I remembered." Nobody was not a loser back then, least of all Eddie, but the point stands.

Jonathan’s smile is not a smile. “Unfortunately,” he says, “that’s not really a productive use of anyone’s time. I’m really going to need to drop your case.” He doesn’t even ask who the boyfriend is, which is irritating.

"I don't _interest_ you?" Eddie asks, leaning forward.

“No,” says Jonathan. 

Eddie tosses their cuffs down, a little hard. "Have you _read_ my record?" Jonathan is giving them absolutely nothing. It's irritating. It's all irritating. But it's not scary.

“Yes,” says Jonathan, also sounding annoyed. “What would interest me about that?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. It's possible, they realize, that this is Jonathan's game. That he's trying to get to Eddie. It's working. "I'm a genius," Eddie says. "Which is a lot more than you are. Anyone can play around with his little chemistry set. I could do that."

“Potential isn’t as important as intention,” says Jonathan. “Anyway, my research interests are focused on fear, and yours is too chronic and obvious to be interesting.”

Eddie can't be offended by that part. It's true. But Jonathan can't really know that. "You don't know me," they say.

“I’m not interested,” says Jonathan. “And I’m not oblivious enough to want to be the object of your attention, either.”

"What the hell," Eddie says.

“When was the last time you took medication for your anxiety disorders?” Jonathan says, tight-jawed and staring at his notes. 

"Last time they force-fed it to me here," Eddie says sharply. "Harvey doesn't like you anymore. Not even sexually." Debatable, but Jonathan doesn't have to know that.

Jonathan looks up. “He’ll come back,” he says.

"I don't think I'll let _that_ happen," Eddie says. God, this asshole is arrogant.

“He didn’t mention you while he was fucking me,” says Jonathan. “And anyway. He always comes back to Arkham.”

Eddie is now furious, but unlike Harvey, they can control their anger. "Why did you let him fuck you?" they ask, trying to sound disinterested.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan says quizzically.

"Are the people you want to experiment on and the people you want to fuck typically the same?" Eddie asks.

Jonathan says, “We’re here to find out about you. Unfortunately.” His face is a little red.

"Just seems...grotesque," Eddie says. "Taboo." They're enjoying this.

Jonathan stares at them, his eyes hard and bright and furious. Then, out of fucking nowhere, without breaking his gaze, Jonathan opens his mouth and screams. Before Eddie can react, Jonathan snatches the stapler off his desk and slams it against his own face, before throwing it on the ground between them. Blood wells and runs down his cheek as he pounds the alarm button on the desk behind them.

"Fuck," Eddie says, jerking away. Fuck, they're going to be completely fucked. Jonathan is crazy and it's going to pay off for him. The orderlies take longer than usual, but two of them do come in and grab Eddie's arms, pinning them behind Eddie painfully.

"Suits you, doc," one of them says.

Jonathan puts a hand to his face, and then inspects the blood. He says, “If at any time I check and they are in this building and _not_ in solitary, we will have a private meeting. To review procedure.”

"I--Fine," Eddie says. Solitary is bad, especially for Eddie, but being accessible to the general population is probably worse. Jonathan can't win. Eddie won't let him.

“As if you have a choice,” says Jonathan. He considers Eddie thoughtfully. “Perhaps I’d better not reassign you. We’ll just secure you next time.”

"You can try," Eddie says. They give Jonathan a big smile. Their arms ache, but the orderlies aren't dragging them out fast. Jonathan can't be popular.

“I don’t have to hold you still for long,” Jonathan says. “Goodbye, Eddie.”

"Terrifying," Eddie says. As the orderlies drag them out, they take comfort in the fact that at least if it is terrifying, it won't be because of something Jonathan did independent of chemical help.

5\. 

Jonathan is so, so, so, so angry. He doesn’t have any interest in Eddie Nashton, a boring, compulsive little reminder of grade school who wasn’t intriguing then and isn’t intriguing now and whose entire bit is being intriguing, which makes it all worse. Jonathan goes to the infirmary for his cheek, then sees five other patients before the end of his work day. The entire time he simmers. When the lights in the rest of the offices go out, he slowly unpeels himself from his chair and walks down to the solitary wing. Eddie is visible through one of the little windows, looking, even alone, like they’re daring someone to think they’re not having a good time. 

He is so angry. All Jonathan was was not interested, and Eddie had to make it so unpleasant.

Eddie spots Jonathan and comes over to the window. They gesture at Jonathan to come closer. They're smiling.

Jonathan indulges, while visions hurtle past his eyes of all the things he could do to Eddie. Some of them, he’s still balancing against their usefulness. Some of them are terribly bloody. Everyone has moments like this, but it would be easy for Jonathan to act on them. He takes two steps closer, pokerfaced. He hits the intercom outside the cell, which will let them speak, and says, “Eddie. How was the lunch today? Grouper nuggets again?” 

"One of the guards slipped me a soda," Eddie says calmly. "You know, I think they like me more than they like you. Isn't that weird?"

“I’ve taken an interest in your case after all,” says Jonathan. “I’ve been reviewing your chart.”

"Why doctor, is that a threat?" Eddie asks. "Going to do to me what you did to Harvey? As you said, my baseline is a lot more frightened than this. It probably won't be as satisfying."

“Oh, no. I don’t think my treatments would be helpful to you,” says Jonathan. He keeps his face mild. Inside he is tearing things apart with his teeth.

"What, then?" Eddie says. "Even Arkham gets a second look if a body turns up with no paperwork." They're playing with something--some kind of ball. Something they shouldn't have.

“A _body_?” Jonathan repeats. “Are you receiving _threats_ , Eddie?”

"Hard to say," Eddie says. "I heard you were, actually. You're really not well-liked."

Jonathan says, “Work isn’t for friends, Eddie. And Arkham, I think, is not for you.”

Eddie's eyebrows go up. "Are you releasing me?"

“I’m petitioning a judge,” says Jonathan kindly. “To have you transferred somewhere more appropriate. Really, the pathologizing of your behavior has been an insult. And for all these years. It’s disgraceful. A miscarriage of justice.”

Gratifyingly, Eddie freezes. "Wait," they say.

“After my assessment of you today I’m absolutely positive that malpractice has taken place,” says Jonathan. “You may be correctly diagnosed with an anxiety disorder but to say that you’re incapacitated by it, or driven to crime by it? Ludicrous. It’s in no one’s best interest for you to carry out a sentence in Arkham.”

"I want to make a call," Eddie says, their voice low. Jonathan can hear the fear in it, and it almost makes up for this entire worthless day.

“The phones aren’t working,” says Jonathan. 

Eddie doesn't waste any time on "You can't do this" or begging. They're very pale. "Harvey will find out," they say. "And that won't be good for you."

“I’ll make sure he knows I did everything I could to help you,” says Jonathan. 

"You're delusional," Eddie says. "Trust me, you're making an enemy you can't handle. You won't catch Harvey by surprise twice." They've stopped playing with their little toy.

That does stop Jonathan in his tracks, a little. He clenches his fist where Eddie can’t see it, so tightly that his nails cut through a layer of skin. “You came here on purpose,” he says. “Why?”

"I'm all about finding the answers to interesting questions," Eddie says. "Harvey's encounter with you raised several. I was intrigued."

“You could have asked for an appointment,” says Jonathan. “For Christ’s sake, who deliberately gets committed so they can see someone else’s doctor? Healthcare is bad, but that’s ridiculous.”

Eddie laughs. "Now you sound like Jon Crane. Do you know, I didn't even think of that? I didn't get myself committed on purpose, actually, but that was the plan."

Jonathan bites his tongue, too hard. “Intrigued how?” he says. Never mind the insults.

Eddie is silent for a minute. Then they say, "Jealous, for one. See, Harvey's mine. And he was intrigued by you, too. I had to find out why. And honestly, who has the balls to let Harvey fuck them?"

Jonathan flushes. “I knew what would happen,” he says. “Harvey makes perfect sense.”

"Does he?" Eddie says. "Not to me, always. And I've known him a long time."

“You probably just don’t pay enough attention,” says Jonathan.

"I'm a sucker for details, actually," Eddie says. They tilt their head and look at Jonathan. "Don't send me to Gotham State Pen." Not begging, just asking.

Jonathan stares back at them. His eyes hurt. 

"They'll do to me what the orderlies here want to do to you," Eddie says calmly. "All I did was come in here and act a little arrogant. Don't do that to me."

Jonathan says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"You don't know?" Eddie asks, scathing. Then their voice softens. "You really don't know how dangerous this place is for you?"

Jonathan says, “I’ve been here for years. I work very hard.”

Eddie chews their lip. "Jesus," they mutter. "You're very sincere. You're going to get eaten alive. I'm amazed you've lasted this long."

Jonathan says, very coldly, “I’m perfectly resilient.”

"This is a good-faith warning," Eddie says. "And it's not just the orderlies. The other doctors don't like you, either. By the way, what happened to Harvey's old doctor?"

“Oh, he’s dead,” says Jonathan. “Does it really matter if they don’t like me?”

Eddie doesn't bat an eye at the first part. "Yes, if they actively want to hurt you."

Jonathan is beginning to feel cramped and impatient and like there is a huge electric pressure pushing at his body from the outside in. 

“You were always the victim,” he says. 

"Yes," Eddie says. "So believe me when I tell you this. I know what it looks like."

Jonathan says, “So what you’re saying, Eddie, is that I’m going to die here or Harvey is going to kill me?”

"You're very smart," Eddie says. "You can probably see that there are other options."

“Free you? Leave town?” Jonathan snarls. “I won’t do that. Everything is here.”

"I know that feeling, too," Eddie says. "But I also think your skill set would be _incredibly_ useful. What did you _do_ to Harvey?"

Jonathan stares at them. “Are you trying to recruit me?” he says.

"I did a lot of research on you before I ended up back here," Eddie says. "You've been busy since high school. You're brilliant. And I don't say that to a lot of people. You're also ruthless, unhinged, apparently willing to kill...you're halfway there. More than."

Jonathan growls, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I hate you. I’m sending you to prison, Eddie.” He doesn’t feel quite the same inferno of certainty that he did before, but he says it. It can still be true. Anything else doesn’t make sense.

"Okay," Eddie says. "Watch your back, though. I mean it about what I heard."

“You didn’t say you heard anything,” says Jonathan. 

"Oh," Eddie says. "Didn't I? Yeah, some of the orderlies were going to jump you. I can't remember who or when."

Jonathan says, “You’re trying anything. That’s all.”

"That doesn't make it not true," Eddie says.

Jonathan swallows. He strikes out in a different direction, unsure of it, but the words come out. “It’s a gas,” he says. “I’ve tried it in pill form but the gas acts more quickly and is more--it’s easier to work with, with difficult...patients.”

"Harvey was so shaken up," Eddie says. "I haven't seen him like that in years. You do good work, even if you are kind of a prick."

“If I was nice, I wouldn’t have the guts,” Jonathan snaps. Then he blinks. “He was?” he asks. 

Eddie smiles. "Yes," they say. "He had to have two whiskeys before he'd even settle down and make any sense."

“His fears,” says Jonathan, “do you know what they are?”

"Yes," Eddie says. "He didn't tell me what he saw, but I know what he's afraid of. But I can't tell you."

Jonathan says, “Do you think he would tell me?”

"I think you'd have to get to a different place in your relationship," Eddie says. "But it's possible. Harvey isn't that secretive. Still, macho guys." They shrug.

Jonathan says flatly, “You want me to let you out, and then you want to take me with you as if I’m going to join your _team_ , and then you’re going to kill me.”

"Your fears, by the way," Eddie says, "are very much evident. Listen, no promises about joining anything. I just don't want to throw away a resource. Oh, and hey--It's stupid, but--" The bounce the little ball against the wall, trailing off.

“What?” Jonathan says sharply. 

"Thanks for getting my pronouns right," Eddie says. "Signs you're not a total dick."

Jonathan says, “It’s not because I like you.” His mouth tastes wrong. He doesn’t talk to patients like this. The longer he stays here, talking to Eddie, the more he remembers being in school. Where they weren’t friends, but their paths...crossed. More than Jonathan wants to acknowledge or recall.

"I know," Eddie says calmly. "I know we're not friends. But I noticed, and it's not nothing. Anyway, I'm not going to kill you. I don't kill people."

“What _do_ you want?” Jonathan says. “You can’t want me anywhere near Harvey, can you? You can’t want that.”

"Honestly, I'm curious about your research," Eddie says. "I read your dissertation. And if you're going to hurt Harvey or fuck him, it's not like those things are in my control anyway. I just want to _know_ more. And this was not a successful form of information-gathering."

Jonathan says, “No. You did an awful job.”

"I didn't expect you to be so gutsy," Eddie says.

Jonathan says, “I’m goal-oriented.”

"You're crazy," Eddie says. "No offense. And way too good at crime to be a doctor."

Jonathan says, “I’m going to let you out.”

Eddie, who had been doing a good job at pretending to be relaxed, visibly relaxes. "Got it," they say. "Thank you."

“Excuse me,” says Jonathan. It takes him half an hour or so to swipe someone else’s key card, someone else who will at least take the blame long enough for Jonathan and Eddie to leave, and ten minutes to pack up all the work he’s cautiously left here on site and put it in his car. When he gets back to solitary, Eddie looks wary and pale. He swipes the card and the lock pops.

"I thought maybe you weren't--" Eddie says. "But never mind, you did. And if this is a trick, there's not much I can do about that. Let's go." They stick close to Jonathan as they walk down the hall.

The useful thing about Arkham is that they are not good at security here unless they are bruising for a fight. (Jonathan thinks of the attack Eddie warned him about and finds it too believable, very uncomfortable.) Otherwise, they don’t really care. As long as there is someone to be nasty towards, most of the staff here see the patients-inmates as interchangeable. So Jonathan prepares something breezy to say on their way out, but no one is guarding the desk at the staff door, and Jonathan goes around back and unlocks everything without any hassle. 

“Red one down at the end,” he says, pointing to a car.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks, but they don't wait before starting briskly for the car.

Jonathan says, “That is a very strange question,” and pushes ahead of them to unlock the car. 

Eddie doesn't say anything else. They get into the passenger side and lock the door behind them. It's not until Jonathan starts the car that they say, "Oh--my stuff. We left my costume. My cane." They wave a hand. "Oh, never mind, it doesn't matter, Harvey will get it next time, or I'll figure something out. Let's get out of here."

“Where?” says Jonathan once they’re on the road. He drives at his usual moderate pace.

"Harvey lives downtown," Eddie says. "Take the bridge into the city."

Hunger hits and fills Jonathan like a fireball, raging out from an exploded building. He clears his throat, and says, “The bridge. All right.”

6.

Harvey is in the middle of menacing someone when his phone rings. He's really turned up the violence these past three weeks, and it's making him feel a lot better. One of his men has been stealing from him, and Harvey is a coin flip away from finding out what the consequences will be. Just as he's about to make the discovery, his chunky cell phone, sitting on the workbench in his hideout, goes off.

"Yeah?" Harvey barks into the phone.

“Hey, Harv,” says Eddie. “Listen, take your time and do what you’re doing, but I wanted to let you know I’m calling from your place?”

Harvey has got to get those locks changed. "I thought you were in Arkham," he says. "Somebody said that."

“Yeah,” says Eddie. Even from that one syllable, Harvey realizes that they are hiding something. “About that.”

"Eddie, what the hell's going on?" Harvey demands. The employee he was chastising starts to inch toward the door.

“Well, I was in Arkham, but someone let me out,” says Eddie. “And gave me a lift. And also is in your house.”

"You know I hate guessing games," Harvey snarls. He fires his gun off to the left of the man who's thinking about escaping, but mostly so Eddie will hear it.

“Ah, fair enough,” says Eddie. “It’s Jon Crane.”

That makes Harvey pause. "Ah, okay," he says. "Sorry I yelled at you." Suddenly tormenting this thug became a lot less interesting.

“Okay, but we’re going to converse, Harvey, okay?” Eddie says. “This is a conversation time.”

"I'm bringing my guns, though," Harvey says. Crane humiliated him. No matter what happened _before_ that. Harvey is bringing his guns.

“He’s just crazy,” says Eddie. There’s a pause. “Well, you are.”

"I'm coming home," Harvey says. He has other questions, like about why Crane let Eddie out, but those can wait. Without taking another look at his henchman, he hangs up the phone, packs up his bag of tools, and drives home.

He spends most of the drive thinking about how Crane's neck looked with the belt wrapped around it, which wasn't the plan.

Eddie is peering out the front door when Harvey finishes parking and comes up the sidewalk.

They say, “Listen, let’s talk and then let’s you and I talk, and how about no one gets shot before all that happens? Doc’s eating a sandwich in the kitchen. Long day.”

Harvey looks Eddie in the eye and flips the coin. Unfortunately, the coin wants Harvey to be a sucker.

"Fine," he says. "Nobody gets shot yet. I have some questions, anyway."

Eddie pushes the door wide to let Harvey in. Until they make their way into the kitchen and Harvey actually sees him, he doesn’t entirely believe Crane will be there. But he’s perched at the bar with a sandwich in his hands, staring at Harvey like he’s something really good. Or really spooky. One of those.

"Doesn't feel the same when you're on my turf, does it?" Harvey asks. Honestly, he has no idea how Crane feels. He misread him pretty badly once and he'd rather not do it again.

“No,” says Crane fervently, and Harvey can’t tell at all if he thinks that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eddie sidles in behind Harvey and crosses their arms, watching them both.

"What did you break Eddie out for?" Harvey demands.

Jonathan lifts his chin, slightly defiant. “They made good points,” he says.

“I told him he was gonna get shanked by guards and that if he hurt me, you’d kill him next,” says Eddie.

“They said I had potential,” says Jonathan with dignity. Or, all the dignity that he carries off, with those too-intense eyes. “I was curious.”

"Potential? What does that mean?" Harvey asks. It's not like he had a different thought, though, once the fear and irritation cleared.

“Crime,” says Eddie, stealing half of Crane’s sandwich and taking a bite. “Did you know he murdered your doctor?”

"He what?" Harvey had said that, but not really thought it. "Wait, why?"

Crane stares at him, unsmiling. 

“I think he might also be a stalker,” says Eddie. “Oh wow, maybe this was a bad idea!” They take another enthusiastic bite.

"So...This was just about me? You weren't doing that to anyone else?" Now, in his own kitchen, that feels something other than threatening.

“The treatment? Of course it wasn’t just you,” says Crane. He drops his gaze, frowning. “But I may have arranged certain things for you.”

"That's...sweet," Harvey says, which isn't quite the word. "Like killing my doctor." If Crane is trying to stroke Harvey's ego, it's working.

“He’d seen you for years,” Crane says. “I tried other ways.”

“Like what?” asks Eddie.

“Asked politely,” says Crane. “He did not say yes.”

A chill goes down Harvey's spine. Again, not unpleasant. "Why?" he asks. "Is it the nightmare gas? I don't even have especially interesting fears."

Crane looks him up and down. “You thrive on taking things apart,” he says. “I wanted to help you. I wanted to take _you_ apart.”

Harvey bites down on the sound he wants to make. "You could have at least asked permission," he says, slightly strangled.

Crane looks surprised, like someone has hit him in the face with a fish. Eddie laughs. “Jon is an asshole,” they say. “Of course he didn’t think of that.”

"I see you two made friends," Harvey says, put out. He wanted Eddie to be on his side, obviously. But maybe the sides don't have to look quite like he'd thought. It's worth considering.

As he’s thinking this, Crane shoots Eddie a look, like he’s sure that he’s in trouble and hasn’t figured out how much yet.

"He poisoned me," Harvey says to Eddie. "What did he do to _you_? Make you breakfast?"

Eddie manages to hide their expression, but not fast enough. They say, “He didn’t do anything, Harv, it’s all right.”

"It's not all _right_ ," Harvey says. "I haven't promised not to shoot anyone yet." He wants to know what he missed. It's always something, with Eddie, and it's definitely something with Crane.

“He didn’t touch me,” Eddie says. “Okay? It was just a little threat. He didn’t do anything.” Eddie can be frustratingly close-mouthed when they decide to be. 

"Well, that stops now," Harvey says. "No threatening you, no poisoning me. What exactly are you here for, doctor? A spot on the team? Well, let me tell you, we're a team of two." Harvey only deals in twos, and sometimes he's enough all on his own. He hasn't decided about Crane yet, but he's not going to let him just waltz in and pretend as if everything's fine.

“I didn’t ask for that,” Crane says. “Eddie offered.” His voice doesn’t shake, but Harvey knows people. He has Crane on the ropes, whatever kind of match they’re in.

"What are the stakes here?" Harvey asks, catching on. "If I kick you out right now with nothing, what happens? Do you go back to Arkham and your cushy job?"

Crane straightens in his seat. “I can’t think why not.”

“No?” says Eddie. “No? You ran away with a prisoner? And they already wanted to kill you. Jesus.”

Crane says, “I do very good work.” 

Oh, he’s _afraid._

"Good work doesn't get you far in Arkham," Harvey says. He turns to Eddie. "Really, kill him? I just heard them say they wanted to beat him up."

Eddie gives him an exasperated look. “The guards, yeah,” they say. 

"Actually, one of the other doctors," Harvey says.

“No, I mean the doctors wanted--” starts Eddie, but then they look at Crane for a second and Harvey can _see_ them get softhearted. They don’t even want to say it in front of him? Honestly?

“I don’t plan on leaving Gotham,” Crane says, as if none of this is happening. “I’m established here. My work is here.”

"No, stay in Gotham," Harvey says shortly. It's partly Eddie going soft, which always gets him, and it's partly his intense interest in Crane.

“I _am_ staying in Gotham,” Crane repeats. 

“I don’t think you have a job,” Eddie says. “You do not have a job. I am trying to be extremely clear.”

Crane opens his mouth, then says crisply, “Maybe not.”

"Because you broke Eddie out," Harvey says. "Because they offered you something." He looks at Eddie, accusatory. "I'm assuming you were either desperate or the offer was conditional on my agreement." Or both. Harvey isn't thinking about offers right now. Crane is wild. Wild and contained. It's magnetic.

“Little of this, little of that,” Eddie says. “It really doesn’t matter.”

"You know I would have come and gotten you in a few days," Harvey says.

Eddie says, “Sure, yeah,” very engagingly, so obviously they’re no use. 

Harvey _hates_ riddles. "But you didn't poison them?" he asks Crane. "What, then? They can usually wait out Arkham better than most people." Eddie, oddly, has been able to make more friends in there than most people can.

Crane says, reluctantly as a badger being dragged out of a hole, “Arkham isn’t the only place.”

Harvey narrows his eyes. "What? What does that mean? Did you _threaten_ them?" Why not, Crane certainly threatened him. You shouldn't bring someone who threatened you to your friend's house for sandwiches, but Eddie has always been stupid in matters of self-preservation.

Crane says, “I suggested an alternate...assessment. Of their need. To be in Arkham.” He pauses. “I know a judge.”

Harvey simmers. He can feel himself about to explode. "You wanted to ship them to the State Pen? Do you _know_ how long they'd last in there? Never mind, of course you do." The people in Arkham are Eddie's kind of weird. They can't move between worlds the way Harvey can.

“I didn’t do it,” Crane says. He’s obstinate, but washed out.

And Harvey--just can't blow up at him. The thing is, _Crane_ is Eddie's kind of weird, too. And Eddie chose to bring him here. Harvey promised to hear both of them out. "Hm," he says. "You're an ass. And you didn't break Eddie out, I'd say you broke each other out."

Crane looks hawkishly at Eddie. “Maybe.”

“For sure,” says Eddie.

“You didn’t like me in school,” says Crane.

“Right, but that was a million years ago,” says Eddie. “I think you might be more interesting now. And it’s not like we never, you know.”

"What?" Harvey says.

“Well,” says Eddie. “You know. Adolescence. You try things out.”

Crane looks deeply uncomfortable.

"God, I'm sorry about them," Harvey says to Crane, which is unfair, but Eddie can take it. "No wonder you were so vehement about him," he says, turning to Eddie.

“We’re not friends,” says Eddie sternly, then brightens. “But we could be!”

"We'll talk," Harvey says. "Without Crane." He needs a moment to separate wanting to fuck Crane, seeing Eddie like him, and actually wanting to work with him.

Eddie uncrosses their arms. “Sure,” they say.

Harvey grabs Eddie's sleeve and tows them into the bedroom, slamming the door for effect. It doesn't usually rattle Eddie, though.

"Okay," Harvey says, "What are you thinking? Seriously? I know he's attractive, and maybe you tricked him into helping you somehow, but do we really want him around?"

Eddie shrugs. “He’s really smart,” they say. “And honestly I like him like this way better than in high school. You think a few threats are going to put me off?” They raise meaningful eyebrows in Harvey’s direction.

"He poisoned me," Harvey says, but it's sounding like a weaker and weaker argument. He's done worse to Eddie.

“Yeah,” says Eddie. “Definitely a fixer-upper.”

"Since when do we fix things?" Harvey asks.

“Good point,” Eddie says. “And I mean it about not being friends, but I really convinced myself when I was hyping him up to himself in solitary.”

"We're really not killing him?" Harvey asks. Doesn't matter, you can't kill someone who's staring at you and eating your sandwiches.

“Killing him? God! No, we’re not killing him,” Eddie says. “You still want to fuck him. I want to take him on a spree or two. Who knows, if all goes well, I might want to fuck him too. We’re not killing him!”

"I liked you better when you were jealous," Harvey grumbles. But he's so drawn to Crane that he can't think past it. Maybe people who don't poison him just aren't exciting enough.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people for me to be jealous of,” says Eddie, one side of their mouth curling up in a smile. It baits Harvey--Eddie doesn’t poison him, but Eddie isn’t boring. Eddie is anything but boring, especially when they’re excited about something new.

"Kiss me," Harvey says. "You look great."

Eddie immediately steps into Harvey’s space and tugs him close by the lapels. “I am great,” they say. “Aren’t I great? I brought you a present, even. Great.”

"I love watching you win," Harvey says. He kisses Eddie hard, letting them hang onto his lapels. When they break apart, Eddie is gazing into Harvey’s eyes, affable and unanxious and pink-cheeked. 

"Let's go put Crane out of his misery," Harvey says. "I mean, tell him he's in."

“And then you can fuck him right away, if you want,” says Eddie helpfully. “I’m going to run to the corner and buy a paper, don’t even worry about it.”

"I'm not," Harvey says. Right now, he's not worried about anything. Unless Crane poisons him again.

“All right then,” says Eddie. “Come on, Harv.”

7.

Jonathan is contemplating movement the entire time that Harvey and Eddie are out of the room. He could leave and drive away. He could take a knife out of the block on the counter built into the wall. He could move stealthily and listen to what they say. He doesn’t do that. He gets a glass of water and sits with it between his knees. 

Had he disliked Eddie Nashton before they...? Or only after? He can’t really remember, it was so long ago. And people, including Jonathan, remake memory to suit their grudges. But if he had to be honest (which he does), he thinks that the real dislike only happened when they had something to be afraid of.

It always comes down to fear. 

Harvey and Eddie emerge before too long. "Well," Harvey says, "I guess we're going to give this a try, doc. What do you think, want to be a criminal with an obnoxious gimmick?" He's watching Jonathan in a somewhat predatory way, under his light tone.

The feeling of being watched twists through Jonathan’s body and leaves him lightheaded. 

“Is it a gimmick?” he says.

“Of course it is,” says Eddie. “But, like, a good one.”

“Do I work for you?” Jonathan asks. He means to say _would_ I, _would_ I, but they all probably know better. He’ll have to do something about that. He can’t give up all his ground forever.

"That would be nice," Harvey says, but he and Eddie exchange glances and he says, "All right, no. We can...work alongside each other. Test things out."

Jonathan says, “Well, I don’t know much about crime. You’ll need to show me the ropes.”

Eddie snorts and Jonathan frowns at them.

“I’m sure someone will be happy to show you the ropes,” Eddie says meaningfully. 

"I'm sure I could show you any number of things, now that I'm not locked in a basement," Harvey says sharply.

Jonathan says, “I’m not going to apologize. It’s good for you. Now that I’m here, we can talk more.”

"No," Harvey says. "You're in my territory now. I'm not here to get therapy, and if you gas me again, I'll kill you."

Jonathan’s hands tighten around his glass. 

“It’s a trial run,” says Eddie. “A probationary period? You might want to play it cool, Jon. Neither of us is very nice.”

"And you may be used to having all the power, but so are we," Harvey says. He steps close to Jonathan and puts his hand on the back of Jonathan's neck. "And that can be very dangerous for you, or it can be very good for you."

Jonathan’s breath quickens. He looks up at Harvey, he looks over at Eddie. “Tell me what you care about,” he says, voice rough. “Tell me what you want. I’ll help you get it.”

"Oh, I think you were on the money before," Harvey growls. "I want control."

Jonathan nods, lightheaded. He wonders if Eddie would stop Harvey from killing him. He wonders if Harvey would kill him by accident. He wonders if Harvey is going to fuck him, actually, but also if Eddie is going to--? _What_ is Eddie going to do?

“Is Eddie going to watch?” he asks.

Eddie says, “Eddie’s right here? Eddie can have an opinion about what Eddie does?”

"You can have an opinion," Harvey says, "but you're going to watch. Until I say otherwise." He swipes his rough thumb over the wound on Jonathan’s cheek, where he hit himself when Eddie caused trouble.

“Can I make suggestions?” Eddie asks. Jonathan will kill them. Jonathan is so hungry it’s like falling asleep and waking up at the same time. 

"I can't stop you," Harvey says. He grabs Jonathan's arm and tugs him against his body. Harvey is much bigger than Jonathan, and Jonathan can feel the strength in his grip. 

“Do it right here,” says Eddie. “That’s my suggestion. I’ll get your stuff.”

They walk past, towards the back of the house without waiting for a response. Jonathan doesn’t know what they mean and it doesn’t matter, unless he’s about to die, but he’s not. He doesn’t believe that Harvey would be that kind of coward. 

Jonathan anticipates the cold hard ridges of the kitchen tiles on his back. His whole skin prickles.

Harvey raises his eyebrows at Jonathan. "You wouldn't let me fuck you before. I've been waiting." He shoves Jonathan hard against the counter and kisses him with teeth.

The counter’s edge digs into Jonathan’s back and he leans into it, tucks his elbows back on the countertop and leaves himself open to Harvey’s rough hands, hard grip, mean teeth. He could scream, but he doesn’t, just kisses back and feels himself start to shake. 

"You fucked me up," Harvey says, low and intimate. "I'm going to fuck you up, too, but we're both gonna like it this time." He grabs Jonathan's necktie and hauls him close, then slings him down to the floor.

The landing jolts through Jonathan’s body and he stares up, dizzy. Eddie comes back and says, “Here, Harv,” tapping his shoulder with the back of a fist full of condoms and lube. Jonathan remembers who he is and where he is and starts to be afraid.

"Seriously?" Harvey says. "What are you, my mother? I know, I know. Put them on the counter." He looks down at Jonathan. "You're lucky Eddie is here to moderate."

Eddie doesn’t put them on the counter. They put them on the floor, in easy reach, and look at Jonathan. Smile. Jonathan might as well be drowning.

"For Christ's sake, Eddie," Harvey says, but he doesn't try to argue. He crouches next to Jonathan and grabs him by the hair, pulling him into a kiss and fumbling to get his tie off. 

Jonathan’s temper flares, because it’s not working, and this all has to work. He shoves Harvey’s hand away and yanks the tie off himself, so roughly it hurts his neck. Things have to work.

Harvey grabs Jonathan by the throat and slams him against the floor, hard enough to smart but not hard enough to do real damage. It's jarring, but not enough. Harvey yanks Jonathan's shirt untucked and shoves his hand under it, his scarred skin dragging over Jonathan's stomach.

“He needs more than that,” says Eddie, and Jonathan wants to snarl at them, because if he could think straight he might be embarrassed that Eddie is here, but right now he’s nothing but a wolf on a raft on an open, angry sea. He hates to be explained. He needs Harvey to understand him. 

Harvey casts a furious glance at Eddie, then whirls around and turns it on Jonathan. His face is twisted and ugly. He drags Jonathan by the hair again, pulls his head back and strikes him across the face. "First you're gonna suck me off," he snarls. "I'm gonna make you choke. Then I'll fuck you."

There are stars to blink through, and Jonathan is still blinking as Harvey drags him to his knees. The tile is cold on his hands. Eddie is behind him now, making some noise that doesn’t mean anything. 

"Don't micromanage," Harvey tells Eddie, but all the growl goes out of his voice when he says it. But his eyes, when they meet Jonathan's, are on fire. He undoes his belt and pants, strokes himself fully hard, and then drags Jonathan to him by the hair so suddenly that Jonathan almost loses his balance and has to catch himself on his hands. When Harvey grips Jonathan's jaw and pushes himself roughly into Jonathan's mouth, Jonathan has barely recovered.

Jonathan is terrified and hungry and wants this more than most other things, and Harvey is big and rough, and shakes Jonathan loose from all his rational thoughts. Harvey is forceful, but Jonathan is greedy, and Harvey makes surprised, uncontrolled noises to the movements of Jonathan’s mouth.

Harvey keeps his promise to make Jonathan choke, but too soon he pulls away, saying, "Okay, okay, wait. I'm not gonna last if we keep doing this. I want to fuck you. If that's okay with Eddie," he adds nastily.

“Of course it, yes it,” says Jonathan with effort. His mouth aches. 

Harvey grins, still hideous, and kneels next Jonathan, shoving him onto hands and knees. He reaches around and undoes Jon's pants, pulling them down roughly.

Jonathan shivers and blinks and stares down at the tiles, breathing so hard that he’s dizzy. He remembers that if-that’s-okay Eddie is here watching them and feels a rush of both repulsion and want. He can’t see Harvey, only feel him.

Harvey stops touching him for a moment, and then his hand is on Jonathan's hip and his finger, slick with lube, is pushing inside Jonathan.

It’s thick and knotted, and Jonathan can’t see him. A noise breaks out of Jonathan’s throat, something uncomfortable. He breathes, and breathes. This is everything he wants. Nothing lines up. 

“Wait,” says Eddie. “Wait, Harvey, wait, come on.” Harvey’s finger pulls out, too fast, and Harvey makes an angry noise. Eddie doesn’t answer that. Their hands, smaller and smoother than Harvey’s, are on Jonathan’s shoulders, guiding him kneeling. Their hands move to his shirt buttons. “Kiss him, Harv,” Eddie says. Cold air against Jonathan’s chest, a button at a time. He looks at Eddie and Eddie looks seriously back.

Harvey doesn't argue, just like he didn't argue in Arkham when Jonathan told him what he could and couldn't do. Then Harvey does what Eddie says and kisses Jonathan.

“Do you communicate?” Eddie asks Jonathan, eyebrow arched.

They take Jonathan’s shirt off. Harvey backs off, just an inch, his hand still on Jonathan’s throat. Jonathan shivers and shuts his eyes. “No,” he says.

“All right,” says Eddie. Their hands come back, knotted in Jonathan’s hair, pressed against his back, laying him down until he’s flat on the floor, shivering and turned on and barely human. Eddie pins his wrists above his head, firmly enough that Jonathan can’t move. He feels bare and wild and he _wants so fucking badly._

“Rail him,” says Eddie. 

Harvey laughs, a delighted bark. "Christ," he says. He pulls off Jonathan’s pants. When Harvey starts to fuck him, it's brutal and wild, but Jonathan knows that Eddie is calling the shots. Jonathan is shaking apart, caught in a whirlwind. Eddie’s weight shifts, but Harvey doesn’t stop fucking him. Eddie’s hand wraps around his cock. Jonathan is still pinned. He bursts out sobbing, then screaming. Harvey shouts when he comes, slamming Jonathan hard. He doesn’t pull out. Jonathan struggles and cries and Eddie’s hand keeps moving, and then Jonathan breaks. It’s like being wrenched out of his body, because the body is too much. 

They hold him until he’s limp. Then Eddie’s hand runs softly up his stomach.

"You're something," Harvey mutters. Unclear which of them he's talking to. He rolls off Jonathan but keeps touching him, his hand never leaving Jonathan's back.

Jonathan feels so sharp and clear and distant. 

“Hey,” says Eddie. “Asshole. Want your clothes back?” 

Jonathan nods. 

“Bathroom,” says Eddie. They gather up Jonathan’s things and put them in his hands. “Clean up. Come on, I’ll show you.”

"Nobody even invited you," Harvey tells Eddie, but very fondly.

“Who brought him home, huh?” Eddie shoots back mildly as Jonathan gets to his feet. They touch Jonathan’s elbow, lightly, and start towards the bathroom. Probably. Jonathan says, “I brought myself. Thank you.” And follows them, still floating and burning. 

"You did," Harvey says, shutting the bathroom door behind all of them. "It's actually pretty fucking hot how much control you have over shit, even flat on the floor."

Jonathan would like to say he had control. He’ll let Harvey say it, anyway. 

Eddie says, “I almost thought you were cute,” and smiles at him in a friendly way. Well—that can’t be trusted. Even if they are different from how Jonathan remembered.

"Nobody here is as cute as they think they are," Harvey says.

Eddie laughs, and Jonathan growls out, “I don’t think I’m—”

"God, I don't know what you are," Harvey says. "A menace. I guess we'll find out."

Jonathan meets his eyes. Eddie hands him a wet washcloth. 

“Hmm,” says Jonathan emphatically, and starts to clean up.

Harvey puts one arm around Eddie and pulls them close. "I'd like to see how that fear stuff looks from the outside," he tells Jonathan.

Jonathan looks Eddie up and down. “I’ll do that,” he says. 

“Oh, wait,” says Eddie.

"Maybe I'll videotape it," Harvey says. "For Crane's research." For what feels like the first time, he looks Jonathan right in the eye and smiles at him.

“You can call me Jonathan,” he says, warm and spooked and, he remembers, still both naked. 

“We can call you Jon,” says Eddie. “Or—can we?”

Jonathan says, “I don’t know, Eddie, can you?” and Eddie pushes him in the face. 

"Jonathan," Harvey says, like he's thinking about it. "Yeah. Well, Jonathan, welcome. It only gets better."

Jonathan’s breath catches, and then uncatches. “Thank you, Harvey,” he says. He climbs into his clothes, watching Harvey clean himself up with a sense of buzzy, impossible triumph. Eddie perches on the edge of the claw footed tub, arms crossed, smiling slightly.

As Jonathan slings his tie around his neck, he says, “Now what?”

Eddie says, “Oh—now we have fun.”


End file.
